


Blame

by hummingrightalong



Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Child Abuse, M/M, Other, Unrequited Love, mental health
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-12
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-05-05 20:13:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14626200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hummingrightalong/pseuds/hummingrightalong
Summary: POVs from the Trimbol and Otto family on my version of what lead to the end. Canon divergence.





	1. Fall Upon Your Knees

**Author's Note:**

> MIKE'S POV

It's not the earliest memory I have of Troy, but it's the one that sticks most with me. It has ever since that night.  
The Ottos have been close with my family for longer than Troy or I have been alive.  
My father, Vernon, has been a pillar of the community. He's the man you come to when you don't know where else to turn. He's the man who started his life wanting to do good work, be a man of god, guide and advise the lost.  
My best friend's father has been lost a few times. But never before and never after that one night had I seen Big Otto so out of sorts.  
Mom (Kathy to the community) was just putting my sister and I to bed. The routine was interrupted by the sound of my father's voice, raised and concerned, coming through the open window downstairs.  
I remember mom looking through a shade, carefully and quietly, to see what the disturbance was. I remember being able to see around her.  
Big Otto had come across the lawn with a nearly empty bottle in his hand. It smashed on our front stoop.  
He was raving. At least, from a kid's point of few, it was scary.  
"I've done something terrible." I remember hearing. "Downright evil, Vern."  
My father did his best to calm him down, get him to settle on a picnic table on our lawn to talk. It took a while and I think (and tell me this isn't the most unsettling thing a kid can hear from a man he respects) Otto was already crying.  
Now, don't get me wrong, everyone on the ranch knew he had as much a problem as Tracy Otto had had.  
Troy's mother, before her sickness, didn't ever try to hide that she was different than all of us- or that she had 'problems'. She was a good mom, though, really she was.  
Maybe not a saint like mine- she was mean and harsh and had this sly evil streak that I saw even back then sometimes in Troy- but she loved him and thought he hung the stars.  
At that point she was dying. Nearly dead, actually, and I'll admit that I was a little jealous of the time Troy spent taking care of her. We'd been friends since we were small.  
When he wasn't trying desperately to follow his momma around or cling to Jake because that's what little siblings do, we spent all our time together.  
Back to Big Otto though.  
My dad asked gently, what had he done that was so terrible. Jeremiah put his head in his hands and his voice was muffled.  
"Help me. You gotta help me or..."  
"Jesus, Jeremiah!" This was as much 'taking the lord's name in vain' as I ever heard my father exclaim in those days.  
It didn't take long to realize what upset dad.  
Don't blame my mom for this, I think she was in shock herself, and she did try to scoot us off to bed before going out to help talk the man down.  
We didn't listen of course, waiting only a few moments after she'd sent us to our rooms and left the house before going back downstairs to watch again.  
I should've protected my sister from it, I guess, but despite the few years behind Troy and I she is, she's always been mature and this seemed too important to miss it trying to be a good big brother.  
At some point during his rambling Jeremiah actually had the gun to his head, hand shaking. Even in his drunken, distraught state, the hand holding the pistol was shaking. He didn't want to do it, but he just might. You could see it in his body language.  
"It's one or the other. You gotta help get me off the drink cause I done something terrible, more than just a mere fuckin SIN, Vern, and I ain't sure I can live with it. I been doin' something evil."  
I already knew how 'terrible' Tracy had been lately. How sometimes Troy wasn't quick enough (or didn't care to be) to dodge a piping hot cup of tea sailing at him.  
I'm sure if I was dying miserably and my young son was trying to take care of me while I was stuck in bed for the rest of my life I might get angry. But he always let her.  
Jake shoulda been there for Troy more. But he always had excuses. Unlike Troy, Jake and I both went to private schools outside the ranch our whole lives. And Jake didn't want a new momma.  
But Troy's mom dying, and Jeremiah selling buckets or being just as much of a drunk as Tracy, meant that he was taking care of everything. I knew it. I don't know why his big brother didn't.  
We hear a lot more. Jeremiah and dad talk for hours. Mom comes back and forth with coffees. We manage to avoid her when she comes in, still able to get enough of the story unfolding outside that at least I had a good idea of why Jeremiah had come to my father for counsel.  
I also knew that was the last night that he'd have a drink. And he kept his word; in large part thanks to my family's vigilence.  
None of that matters though.  
What matters, is what what changed everything, especially my best friend, and the horrible truth that Big Otto confessed to when dad finally coaxed it out of him.  
"Just what have you done, old friend."  
Both my parents flanked him on the table, my mother with a soothing hand on his shoulder while she stared at my father fearfully waiting on the response.  
I guess the shame lowered his voice some, or maybe we just didn't want to hear it, because his words are lost in the wind, his voice harsh from crying.  
Whatever it was he admitted, I saw more than heard my father swear softly, and my mother run away towards the Otto's home.  
She was gone til morning.  
From then on, Jeremiah was sober.  
And as I said, Troy was never the same. I could feel it. Hell, I could even guess if I thought hard enough - come to think f it, the guessing wasn't really all that hard...Fact is, I just didn't want to. I guess I'm a bit of a coward. But I knew that the feeling that everyone else judged and avoided Troy while I remained his best friend would just grow and grow even more after that night.  
His personality disorder, the abuse, the lack of support - no one knowing how or bothering...its gonna come back to bite us.  
This cant end well.


	2. You've Been Granted Three Wishes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How Gretchen got Geoff

My brother has been acting shady as fuck. I'm not saying that's unusual. But it's getting worse.  
Maybe it's the apocalypse that's getting to him. Who hasn't it gotten to really?  
Ok, so I'm alright with it. Let's say I've had an open mind to the macabre side of things well before the dead started to rise again.   
It's only been a few weeks really. Since the world has caught onto it. There's still some level of communication to the outside even. The real bummer is that I know it's going to get worse. That normality is over. This isn't going to be a world for everyone. But it's going to be ok for people like Troy and I.  
We were just wrapping up my applications to college. I was pushing for forensic studies- something along those lines anyway. I remember my brother being absolutely disgusted (or at least acting like he was) about my little taxidermy hobby taking up space in one room of our home. He swore he couldn't walk through there without freaking out. I think that's weak sauce but whatever. He was about to get a bigger surprise.  
It might be Troy's greatest shame in a way, how Geoff came to be.   
Sadly for Troy he's always been a sucker for me and my 18th birthday was coming up. And the world had ended.  
Mike already was pissed off about him 'letting' me (as if there's ever been a 'stopping me') have the room for my 'bible' study group. Didn't stop him from coming around to get drunk and stoned with my friends and I when he wasn't on militia duty but what kind of pain in the ass would he be if he weren't a hypocrit as well?  
The milita's responsibilities used to include mending fences and getting between the little disputes that will inevitably arise when you're all stuck together like this.   
Still, when Troy took over leading the group he was only 17 but those men and those duties became perfectly tuned cogs of the community thanks to him.   
Needless to say he was well organized before the struggles began so being 'prepared' for the worst -the inevitable as bit Otto would say, though the whole zombie part was admittedly a surprise even to him - is an understatement.   
At first his daddy kept the sick ones at that military base they took over. Some of the sick didn't come back. Mike wouldn't talk about how.   
But Troy sometimes would, with me, alone. He didn't struggle over the morality of it, not after he and his doctors went over the logistics and made the conclusion that those sick were already lost.   
At first they waited until they turned totally zombie. Then the risks outweighed the morality that might hold you back from making the hard call- putting down a familiar face (a neighbor, a loved one, someone you'd known for years) because they weren't themselves anymore and would soon be coming for your fucking face, looking to take a bite and find out how you taste.   
The militia had seen it happen, had lost men that way. Troy stopped wasting time and started coming up with strict procedures.  
One of the new duties he quickly gave his men was regular hunting. The sick, rotting things were starting to come near our property. We were already pretty well reinforced, preparing for the fall of democracy and all that.   
But they had to be coraled, destroyed. Like the ones that flatlined and sat back up in his makeshift infirmary at the other base.   
One day I managed to get myself into one of the trucks that went out on a hunt. Troy was informed before they stopped at the edge of the property that there was a stowaway. When he heard it was me he gave me a bag of shit on the walkie talkie. Then told me to lie low and stay in the vehicle.   
I watched him take out three times as many of the hoard that had wandered our way than any one man (Mike included - no surprise, the pansy he's always kinda been) in the hunting party.  
When it was all done I decided to wander closer. I still hadn't actually seen one for myself up close and it would be safer now that Troy had taken all their heads off with a machete.   
His logical mind had already come up with the strategy of using a machete over a gun if you could help it. It was quiet and didn't take those extra precious seconds to perfectly aim between the eyes. And if you were surrounded, as he said, you could easily hack away at their grappling limbs and then safely take off their heads at your leisure with little danger as long as you didn't get too close to their mouths.  
My brother and Troy had had an argument earlier that day- so they were avoiding each other when I came along. Cooper was in the distance but quickly made himself scarce. He knew how much Troy cared and looked out for me; everyone knew that he thought of me as a little sister and he'd be damn near vengeful at whomever might've been responsible for me sneaking out here.  
Little side bar? I think Troy and Mikey had an argument because of our new guy Cooper. Mike had been the 2nd in command for as long as he'd been a part of the milita.   
When Cooper wandered in Troy obviously took a liking to him immediately; having military experience- though a hatred for them from the way they left him whe he developed PTSD out there in the midst of their war, he happily called the ranch a 'vacation destination'.  
Suddenly Troy couldn't help but chase him down every chance he could get and pick his brain about the outside world. Troy hadn't really been allowed outside. I mean, for fuck's sake, he didn't even have a social security card.   
Good thing the world was ending. It wouldn't matter anymore. It had always held him back and I knew it hurt him, so when he couldn't pick Jake's brain (who had been away at college for years and spent a lot of that time having too much fun and ignoring the family responsibilities even when he visited home) he'd find Cooper.   
They were getting close. Friendly of course. Troy didn't have time- or the desire as far as I could tell- for anything else. Not that Cooper was looking for that kind of relationship with him anyway. They were buddies.  
My brother doesn't exactly have the same feelings. Of course, he doesn't have the nerves to express them either. So the two have been stuck in this weird middle ground for a long time now. It used to make Mike happy. Now it's been making him kind of twitchy and jealous of anyone that comes near Troy.  
Troy is oblivious. He's different. That much I know.   
Hey, who isn't around here? But a lot of people just don't get him.  
I do.  
I also know I can get anything I want from him.  
So when I wander by and notice that the head of one of the walking dead Troy had just decapitated was still moving around I had an idea.  
Really, the poor guy was licking at something in the grass like a puppy trying to slurp up a cold cut off the floor. I couldn't help myself. He looked so helpless, so interesting.   
"Troy...something's wrong with this one."  
"Gretchen! Get away from that thing!" He shrieks, rushing over to inspect it himself.  
Giving it a closer look he saw too that for once, beheading the damn thing hadn't stopped it in it's tracks. Usually it worked as well as a bullet to the brain.   
Troy looked down at his machete, glaring at it while he flushed red. "I must've somehow missed severing the brain stem." He was actually embarassed about it. Holy shit. This was going to be easier than I thought.   
"You know, my birthday is coming up..."  
"And?" He says gently. He knows me. He really has been like a brother to me for most of my life. And our brothers have both been...disappointing lately.   
"Can I have it?"  
"For what!" He shrieks again. He tries to push me away from it but I start commenting on the little details and the cold cut observation makes him laugh.  
"Hey, look at that, you even have the same taste in music!" I point out that Geoff has a tongue ring with a slipknot logo on it.   
In reality, Troy will check out almost anything, although he prefers the loud stuff, as long as his daddy doesn't see or hear him doing it. He likes to keep him from the outside world a lot. I've always thought it was shady. And unfair.  
"No." He says firmly. I can already see his resolve wearing away.  
"Please?" I give him the sweetest face I can muster. I know he knows me better but it works.  
He goes to insanely extreme measures but we both agree that, in the name of science, it might actually be smart to keep Geoff around. Although I'm told I may never ever get my hands too close to his face- he superglued him into an old birdcage we found in his attic (whatever the fuck that was doing there) for fuck's sake- we talk about maybe feeding Geoff to see how he holds up and reacts to regular ole raw meat.   
Well, of course. I'm not starving my new pet.  
Really I think a lot of things helped me get away with taking a piece of the living dead home with me. The apocalypse, my upcoming birthday, Mike being a weirdo, and Troy's own scientific curiosity.  
He actually comes down to the room he cleared out for me (yeah, seriously, such a sucker) to host my bible studies fairly often. He never 'partakes', but once I got ahold of Geoff he was just as curious as I was.


	3. Crawling In My Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mike admits doing a terrible thing. Troy, as always, feels like he can't reveal what his best friend really is to the rest of the community.

It started out as it always did. Mike and Troy fishing. Normal, quiet, dorky mike, and all of a sudden; he would come out with the most OUTLANDISH shit.

"Hey, hey Troy," Mike would whisper, glancing to his best buddy at his side.

"Aw, Fuck, what is it? You know we've talked about this and I don't want-" Peace and quiet while they were fishing. No weird shit. No, 'oh gee we're alone now, let's see how fucked up I can be and still have Troy stand by my side'.

"I know, I know, but it's- it's for your research bro!"

"Aw fuck, what did ya do this time?"

Because Mike, Mike is what you'd call a definition psychopath. Not Troy, Mike. Sure Troy was a little fucked up but you could probably attribute that to his upbringing and undefined and untreated psychological problems he had going on. And as far as research, Troy's been trying to define what's wrong with Mike FOR YEARs

Because they had talked about this. And he and Troy had an understanding:

"Don't ask, don't tell! And I do mean emphasis on DO NOT TELL. Because I never ask and somehow you end up tellin' me! Now can we please just...fish." And for less than a minute they end up just fishing. Like normal.

"Yeah yeah but still.

"Damn it Mike!"

Keep your voice down! Keep your damn voice down." Mike goes from a scream to a whisper himself. "People are gonna hear."

"That's what I'm worried about!"

I covered for you with the rabbit, I even covered for you when you cut off part of my fucking ear!" Lest he'd forgotten the day his obsession with Troy (best friends my ass) went a little too far and a knife came out of nowhere and cut out a chunk of Troy's left ear. That was part of the agreement, that Mike not tell him what exactly he did with that portion of Troy's ear.

Why would he be covering for a psychopath that cut off part of his fucking ear? WEll, maybe the reasons were sentimental. Maybe it was because no one else would play with Troy. Like he was the danger to society. Even his goddamn brother believed he was sick enough to do it when he found a bewildered Troy standing over a skinned live rabbit, screaming- the rabbit, not Troy, as said, he was too fucking stunned.

"I know I know I appreciate that and I love you-"

"Don't say that! If you love people you don't cut off their ear. I think."

"See, you don't even know! I'm here for you Troy. And I said I was SORRY about that! I got...excited."

Oh...god. Troy wonders what is he doing with his life. And then he remembers.

Nothing.

"Stop raising your damn voice!"

"Now you're copying me."

Stop acting like we're children and you're playing a damn game!" Troy scolds, then looks at Mike's face, showing nothing like remorse or even understanding. Again, what was he doing with his life. "Oh fuck, you do think this is a game." Of course he said that out loud but Mike mostly ignores it. Like an excited child. *Definitely playing a game.*

"Ok, ok, but still...I fucked a zombie."

"You you what

"I fucked a zombie. You remember that guy that showed up a couple months ago?"

"The guy that went missing? I told you guys can't keep going missing."

"He was sick."

"You mean like you're sick."

"Exactly! Exactly. Look we watched a lot of porn and shit... one thing led to another and well, I choked him to death. Then I tied him down, and I waited. You wanna know what the time was?"

"No.

"Yeah you do! 87 minutes."

"Oh great." Troy rolls his eyes, cast out a line. It had to, it just had to be the same number as him. Of course, that was no mistake. Never is. They both knew it, one of 'em didn't like to talk about it. Mike had that smirk. Troy could see it out of the corner of his eye. The one just for him. The one no one else- not his sister or parents- knew existed except for Troy and the guys that weren't so lucky. The guys that more than marginally resembled Troy himself. Because that's what serial killers do. They obsess. They pick a target. If they kill their target (Troy) the game's over. So they have to find a proxy- or many. And Mike had found many proxies over the years. More than Troy, his 'best friend' liked to think about.

"Don't worry, I was safe, like I said. And you were right. Exactly right." Now Troy didn't want to think about what kind of porn they were watching before this went down, but he probably knew. Just like he knew what kind of porn Mike was probably making. The deal was as long as he didn't tell him about it, especially what he did with the ear, and act like normal Mike most of the time, Troy would cover for him.

Because he had no one else. Even his own damn brother thought better of Mike than he did of Troy. And the Trimbols were a pillar of their fucked up little society, Mike's dad himself responsible for getting their dad sober after Troy lost his mom.

So there was that. Troy felt a little like he owed some people. And Mike was his only friend. He felt like people already expected a certain thing from him. And if there was one thing about Troy, he was a people pleasure. Like him or not that's all he wanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((Addendum: I do not in any way intend to be a Troy apologist. But I don't agree with the creators thinking he was the one that deserved to die more than anymore. This fic, which goes along with my story "Blame", is intended to not be so black and white. Also, while taking the actor Sharman's viewpoints into consideration that Troy's character may not have been so black and white- and explaining the adorable left ear, which Sharman has no explanation for. His own mum has no idea. Link to my AO3 in my bio, also check out my writing blog nakeeyawrites.tumblr.com
> 
> Credit to lflssfrghtnng.tumblr.com for the most of the dialogue as well as a lot of the idea. Mike being a psyco is kind of her baby and (spoiler) I needed a reason for Gretchen to live, which will come later
> 
> Also, in my stories, Nick shows up at the ranch instead of going to La Colonia. I'm sorry and nothing personal to Nick/Lucy shippers. Also nothing personal to those of you who like Mike Trimbol. He creeped me out, and I can tell you the appearances where...))

**Author's Note:**

> Gretchen's POV to come next


End file.
